A not so Grimmauld New Years' Eve
by hpkiwi
Summary: The Trio are celebrating the arrival of the New Millennium by watching...Star Wars. What does Kreacher think of being compared to Yoda? What does Ron make of Muggle technology? And how many arguments are he and Hermione going to have over Star Wars pairings? Also starring George, Angelina and a copy of The Independent newspaper.


A not so Grimmauld New Years' Eve

 _Authors' note: I was originally going to write something for Christmas or Halloween, but got a little flat of ideas. Now, with seemingly everyone on the planet in the last two months going crazy about Star Wars, here was a certain plot bunny. Also makes reference to an amusing Ginny Tumblr head canon by user kingsasspotter. Enjoy the happy New Year, Harry's misidentification of Darth Vader as a Dementor, arguments over Star Wars pairings, Ron's trouble with Hermione for spilling his popcorn at the Leia bikini scene, and trouble caused when Kreacher doesn't take kindly comparisons between himself and Yoda._

 _December 31_ _st_ _, 1999_

With a quiet pop, Harry Apparated on the doorstep outside Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, quickly grasped the handrail to avoid slipping over in the powdery layer of snow, and breathed a sigh of relief. Good, he hadn't disturbed the local Muggle students setting off fireworks in the park opposite. Neither would he need to hex or Confund any old grannies peeping out at the wrong time. He yawned, unzipping his black Auror coat. Surely he was now on track to pass the Stealth and Tracking test in a week's time- without the help of Ignotus' Invisibility Cloak, of course.

He looked up and saw the tell-tale flicker of the T.V. upstairs. Good, that meant mean he wasn't intruding on the other two occupants also sharing his house. His stomach gave a rumble as he thought of the warm buttered popcorn most likely awaiting him on the First Floor. Opening the door, Harry watched as the now-welcoming gas lanterns flickered into life, illuminating the hallway now cleared of elf heads. Thankfully, the bloody portrait had been carted away for storage in Kreacher's den, so no more rude awakenings whenever Ron and Hermione snuck downstairs for an early-morning snogging session.

"Hi Harry," came the call from upstairs. Hermione's voice.

"What are you two watching?" he called back.

" _Star Wars_. Hurry up, we've got the blanket already warmed up for you."

Grinning, Harry jogged his way up the stairs. The appeal of a snuggly movie marathon with his two best friends was unceasingly strong, although he'd always denied it in front of Ginny and had been forced to endure interminable teasing about it. He strolled into the room happily, only to freeze as he heard a hoarse, mechanical breath issuing from the television.

"Calm down Harry. It's just Darth Vader."

 _Ah, damn. They noticed._

Sure enough, the black-coated, masked villain was there, choking his first victim to death. "Charming," Harry muttered, as he squeezed his way underneath the blanket beside Ron. Harry grimaced as the man was finally dispatched and disdainfully thrown aside, bouncing off the space station wall.

"Wha's th' matter?" Ron asked thickly, spraying kernel remnants over Harry. "This is amazing! You should have seen the laser battle just before, it's amazing how…"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted exasperatedly. "Please tell me this wasn't your idea of a fun movie night." At that, Hermione assumed a slightly wounded look. "Yes, it was," she replied icily. "In fact, my parents, being huge _Star Wars_ fans back in the day, decided it was time for me to show Ron what Muggle cinema was like. What's got your wand in a knot?" Harry sighed.

"I took Ginny to see _The Phantom Menace_. Not a great choice for a first movie date." At that Hermione's scowl was replaced by a look of concern. "And is….everything still….?" She began tentatively, but Harry chuckled and waved a hand airily.

"Oh, she loved it. So did Arthur," he added, catching Ron's eye and grinning. The senior male Weasley, they all knew, could have seen a trashy home-made video, and he would have spent the next three hours raving about how amazing Muggle technology was.

"….but me on the other hand, well….," he drew a line across his throat. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not surprised. The local paper only gave it two stars. This on the other hand, you'll like. And here's your popcorn bowl, so you can have your share without having it getting stolen by _Ron_ ," she finished, digging an elbow painfully into her boyfriend's stomach. Ron, turning white, quickly withdrew his hand from the aforementioned bowl, and instead proceeded to steal half of the popcorn from the bowl he and Hermione were sharing. Harry, convinced that the situation was either going to erupt into a heated argument, or physical violence, or snogging, or a combination of all three, tuned out the voices of the combustible couple next to him and focused on the TV as Vader turned his attention to Princess Leia. Meanwhile, he vaguely heard the quiet but heated voices of Ron and Hermione give way to isolated giggles and the telltale sound of kissing. Harry promptly summoned the remote from the nearby coffee table, and mashed his thumb down on the volume increase button. The black-cloaked villain was now positively fuming, as Leia continued to protest her innocence.

" _I don't know what you are talking about. I'm a member of the Imperial Senate on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan."_

" _You are a part of the Rebel Alliance and a traitor. Take her away!"_

"More like 'go to your room,'" Hermione muttered to Ron and Harry. "What?" exclaimed Ron, entirely nonplussed.

"You'll see," she replied cryptically, shooting a look at Harry. "I can guess," he mouthed back at her, and she winked.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione demanded a loo break, and the film was duly paused. Harry took a glance at the brand-new DVD player, and raised an eyebrow at Ron. Ron gave a furtive look back. Alone, only Harry knew that the DVD player bought as a Christmas present hadn't been bought…at all. In fact, Ron had gone to the local electronics store, but promptly found out that he'd brought along Galleons, Sickles and Knuts instead of pounds and pence. It had taken George and a masterful Confundus Charm to rectify the situation. Harry had already promised Ron that he'd show him how to use the ATM in the future.

"So," Harry began, "how are you liking the DVD player compared to the VHS?"

"Amazing," Ron replied, his mouth till full of popcorn. "I thought video was awesome, but this is the other level. And Harry, my turn with the remote."

"Fine," Harry sighed, tossing it over. "But if you two start snogging again, I swear to Merlin I will hex you into the new millennium. My house, my rules, remember?" Ron nodded as Harry looked around the room, checking to see that Hermione hadn't re-entered the living room. He spotted the piano, its book open to the notes of _Für Elise_. He smirked as he leaned towards Ron.

"You old romantic. Since when did you love Beethoven? I suspect someone's been having cozy piano practice with Hermione," he finished, wiggling his eyebrows and punching Ron playfully on the arm. Ron, not one to remain unflustered at mentions of romantic moments, flushed scarlet as he scowled at Harry. "At least I didn't need a new pair of glasses, you specky git," he retorted. "You never noticed back when we were plotting to break into the Ministry, I suspect because you were too busy frolicking with that bloody Snitch." Harry opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by the arrival of Hermione back into the living room.

"Not quarrelling, I hope?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and clearly trying her best to keep a smirk off her face. Harry shook his head fervently, suspecting she had heard a lot of his teasing with Ron.

"Good. Ron, get the next lot of popcorn please," she finished as she plonked herself back down beside Harry.

A few minutes later, with the popcorn fresh and ready courtesy of some oil in a pan, the stove, and a wand-lit element, it was steadily devoured as the conversation picked up.

"Remember Ginny's first game with the Harpies back on Saturday?" Harry chuckled as he took another handful. At that, Ron burst into near-hysterics. "How could I not?" he spluttered, choking on some of his popcorn and requiring Hermione to thump him on the back. "Miles Bletchley was enough of an idiot to yell out that she was only with you because _you_ , you little pervert-" he poked Harry in the ribs- "liked her arse. Well, that was enough…." And he mimed wildly Ginny's loss of temper, and throwing of the Quaffle at Bletchley, followed by an "arrgh!" and wild flailing of arms as he imitated Bletchley's falling off his broom.

"Talk about an amusing first goal," Hermione chuckled, somewhat more composed than either Ron or Harry.

"-…and remember George, his reaction was funny as well…."

"Sod your brother, remember Lee's commentary? Must have broken a record for the number of four-letter words in a commentary…."

"Yeah, that was awesome. Remember Oliver labelling it the best ever entrance for a Harpies Chaser? The only thing that could have made it better would have been Luna also commentating. Can you imagine it? _Chaser Ginny Weasley has given Miles Bletchley a well-deserved overdose of Loser's Lurgy."_

"It was sad that I could only watch half the game," sighed Hermione. "Would I be right though in imagining that the post-match celebrations were somewhat on the _loud_ side?" Harry flinched, knowing that whoever answered was in mortal danger. Most likely Ron.

"Oh yeah," spoke up Ron enthusiastically, oblivious to Harry's warning glance. "Yeah, Charlie, George, Angelina, Oliver, Katie, Lee, Alicia, Harry and I all hung around with Ginny after the Harpies' celebrations, then we went off to the Leaky Cauldron, all had flagons of Firewhisky and got roaring dr-, I mean, we celebrated maturely and responsibly," he finished lamely after being quelled by Hermione's thunderstruck glare.

Harry cleared his throat. "Talking of Quidditch," he began, hoping to salvage the situation before it erupted into violence, "you know that Ginny's put the entire family's names down for the 2002 Quidditch World Cup in Giza. Damn, visiting the Pyramids will be awesome…"

"Awesome," echoed Ron thickly as he devoured more popcorn. Hermione pinched his armpit in response, followed by a now-familiar 'ow!' Hermione gave him a decidedly unsympathetic look before turning to Harry.

"Speaking of Ginny, you do know that she was more than welcome to attend our movie night?" she asked.

"I know," Harry replied. "But she wasn't feeling well this afternoon, and checked herself into St. Mungo's for severe abdominal pain, and…"

The bowl of popcorn was sent flying as Ron stood up, a furious expression on his face. "You didn't?" he bellowed, pointing his finger at Harry, who was puzzled beyond words by this sudden eruption of brotherly overprotectiveness.

Hermione intervened, knocking Ron's arm aside as she leaned down beside Harry, an excited look on her face.

"Shush Ron. Well Harry, is she pr-"

Harry for an instant stared back, all solemn, then tilted back his head and a peal of raucous laughter escaped him. "No...she's not pregnant," he choked, tears of mirth streaming down his face. "Not even close. It was a _Bludger injury_ , you overprotective git, so don't worry, you're not going to be saddled with the title of godfather…just yet," he added with a smirk. It really was worth it seeing his best mate blow up like Aunt Marge, he thought. "Small matter of careers to settle into, and also probably marriage too," he concluded. "So _calm down_. Heaven knows though what your first kid's going to be like," he retorted, bringing with a nod a by now slightly disappointed-looking Hermione into the conversation. "Let me see. Red, curly hair, c _heck_. Bad temper, _check_. Bossiness, _check_. Enormous vocabulary of swear-words, _check_. Being a bookworm, ch-"

He failed to notice the look and nod that Ron and Hermione gave each other, before they seized the pillows off the couch behind them, and began to beat up Harry with them.

"Okay, okay!" he finally called out, rolling onto his back and flinging his hands into the air. "I surrender. Your kids are going to be lovely, sweet-tempered and perfectly ordinary."

"Thank you Harry," said Hermione with as much dignity as her flushed face could manage. "And I'm sure that when-, I mean, should the time arrive, you'd be an excellent godfather." But Harry was shaking his head.

"I've already got Teddy as godson, so my hands are full. You can be godparents for mine, and I suggest Neville as godfather for yours, he's a good bloke."

"Excellent," yawned Ron. "Seems that's life planning for the next three decades ironed out. Now, can we _please_ resume the movie?"

The rest of _A New Hope_ mostly passed without incident, although the silence was once again broken during the duel between Darth Vader and Obi-Wan Kenobi. Harry's mouth dropped open with horror as Vader in one fluid motion swung his lightsaber to make lethal contact with Obi-Wan's neck.

"Oh, come on!" bellowed Ron, upsetting the popcorn yet again and earning another frown from Hermione, who promptly summoned the spilt popcorn back into the bowl within a second.

"For the sake of Merlin's saggy left bollock, why did you let your guard down? There were a dozen times when you could have shove your lightsaber up Vader's arseh-"

"Ron!"

"…backside, then!"

"Oh, for goodness sake, it was a sacrifice for Luke…"

Harry sat there, mute, as he remembered how a senior fatherly figure had, like Obi-Wan, calmly faced death up on the Astronomy Tower. He barely even noticed the rest of the movie, as Luke Skywalker, with the help of Han Solo, blew up the Death Star.

As Luke and Han were given their medals by Leia, the crowd cheered, and the credits began to roll, Harry yawned and stretched. Ron and Hermione were, once again, bickering.

"I'm telling you Hermione, Leia's going to end up with Luke."

"No, Ron, she's not. Didn't you notice the tension between her and Han for the last 30 minutes?"

"Naturally, he'd get up her craw, as Han's a money-hungry git with some ugly troll of a crew-mate…"

"I quite like Chewbacca," Harry interjected, mildly indignantly. "And Ron, I know perfectly well who Leia's going to end up with. I've seen the same behavioral patterns over the last eight years." He finished by rolling his eyes at the pair of them.

"Speaking of the movie," he continued. "Vader would be really easy to finish off. One _Stupefy_ , and that's the villain defeated. Defeating _that_ Dark Lord would be a piece of cake compared to Voldemort."

"So," Hermione said, clearly attempting to hide a smirk as she stared back at Harry. "Look who's all of a sudden an expert on all things _Star Wars_." Harry waved his hand dismissively.

"Not too surprising. The antics between you two are doubly entertaining, and if I'm perfectly honest, I'm easy to please. Given I was with the Dursleys for ten whole years, opportunities for movie nights were far and thin, to be honest."

Hermione opened her mouth, appeared to find no words, then comfortingly put her left hand on Harry's shoulder (her right, Harry idly noted, was hidden underneath the blanket and was therefore probably holding Ron's.) "I'm so sorry Harry….I totally forgot," she finally managed. Harry sighed and smiled sadly.

"It's okay Hermione. What was done is done," he concluded, unable to avoid the slight bite to his voice at the end. Trying to develop a civil, mature relationship between himself, Petunia and Vernon Dursley was going to take time, he thought. He noticed Ron's face was hardening, and Harry knew that before long, the movie night could soon be hijacked into uncomfortable territory.

He therefore nodded at Ron, gaining eye contact. "Well, Ron? Are you a newly-converted fan of sci-fi?"

"That was awesome!" Ron chimed in. "Are there others?"

"Yes, Ron, two more," Hermione replied with a roll of her eyes at Harry, who chuckled back. "Next, _The Empire Strikes Back…."_

This time, it didn't take very long for the progress of the movie to be interrupted by an argument, once again, over Leia's romantic interests.

"See, Ron? That tension between them has only increased since the last time!"

"Yeah, but Luke's the good, quiet, heroic sort! Isn't this the way things are supposed to happen in this sort of thing?"

As Harry listened to what must have been the tenth argument between the pair that evening, he thought that if this argument segued back into Ron's old insecurities, then he was going to drag him from the room and force-feed some sense into him. He was _over_ Ron privately expressing fears that he wasn't good enough for…

"Ugh," Ron muttered, breaking the tension and comically gagging. "Fancy sleeping inside one of those….what are they called Harry?"

"Tauntauns Ron. Now, could you two _please_ be quiet? I'm getting concerned for poor little Luke freezing out there," Harry finished in a long-suffering voice, knowing he was about to get pelted by popcorn.

Sure enough, he did, as the rescue patrol picked up Luke and Han, flying them back to base. The next few minutes passed without interruption, as Luke began to receive treatment from the wampa wounds, until….

"I won!" Ron cheered, wiggling his eyebrows condescendingly at Hermione, who simply haughtily withdrew from Ron's grasp and crossed her arms and legs so tightly it looked like she wouldn't untangle herself for hours.

"Now Harry," Ron called out "that's a Galleon for me."

"What?"

"You were wrong about Han and Leia. Cough up."

"Bite me."

"Oh Ron," groaned Hermione. "Am I really going to have to spell things out for you, insensitive wart though you may be?"

Harry personally thought that that was an excessive blow as Ron opened and shut his mouth like a beached goldfish. "No," he replied defiantly. "I guess I don't. So spell it out, Miss Know-it-all."

"Well, spoiler alert, Luke and Leia are twins."

" _What_?"

"Oh, they don't know it, but they'll find out next movie. I won't spoil the _other_ big reveal, as you need to learn to work out these sorts of things yourself."

 _Blimey_ , Harry thought. They'd been in a relationship for nearly two years, and yet his two best friends were still acting like the petulant thirteen-year olds they once were. If it was Ron asking for essay help, the argument would be almost the same. He looked back at the T.V. as a distinctly stumped Han told Luke to take a rest, then followed after Leia.

Hang on, didn't that mean that if Leia was Vader's daughter, didn't that mean…

"But…the kiss!"

"Yes Ron," Harry cut in. "I have one word to explain it all: jealousy. She wanted to make Han jealous. And once again, I've seen that behavior before," he added in a stage-whisper so Ron, as well as Hermione sitting next to him, heard it.

Hermione turned and fixed Harry with a hawk-like glare. "Harry…."

Harry coughed loudly, but funnily enough, it came out sounding like "McLaggen!"

Hermione had at long last reached her tether. Whipping out her wand, she aimed not at Harry's face, but at the coffee table. The scrunched-up copy of _The Independent_ flew into her hand, and Harry duly received a painful whack to the temple.

"Hey!"

"You deserved it," she fired back, haughtily snuggling up to Ron and burying her face in his shoulder.

There were many other such moments throughout the watching of the film. There was the smirk plastered all over Harry's face as he told Ron he was owed a Galleon as Han and Leia finally kissed, as well as the expressions of disgust as the _Millennium Falcon_ escaped from what turned out to be the belly of a giant space slug ("I'm glad that you didn't start vomiting up those, Ron.")

However, Harry's favourite by far was the arrival of a certain, green-skinned, bat-eared creature, which Ron wasted no time in insulting, as Luke interrogated the new arrival at gunpoint.

" _I'm looking for someone."_

" _Looking? Found someone you have I would say, hmmmm?"_

" _Right…"_

"Is that a house elf?" Ron blurted out, before wrinkling his nose. "Looks like a marginally more attractive version of Kreacher."

Hermione sighed for the umpteenth time. "No Ron, it's Yoda."

"Well, what's the bloody difference? Both bat-eared, talk in a silly manner, wizened…"

Suddenly, a _pop_ came from behind their backs, Harry whipped around to see Kreacher standing in his immaculate tea-towel, who gave two low bows to Harry and Hermione (but not, Harry noticed, to Ron.)

"Suppertime, Master Harry," the aged elf croaked, hopping up onto the sofa behind the trio and gesturing with a chocolate-covered ladle, as, with more clicks of his fingers, three bowls of dessert appeared in each person's lap. "Direct from the Hogwarts Kitchens, No-melt ice-cream, as Master requested, used as a topping for Baked Alaska with Honeydukes' Best Chocolate in the core. A favourite of Master Weasley's, I understand," he finished, this time bowing to Ron.

"Thank-you Kreacher," Ron smiled, as his stomach gave a rumble. But Kreacher traipsed past him, and knelt at Hermione's feet, looking intently at her face.

"Miss Granger," he muttered, "what have the Ministry been doing to you in your department? Seventy hour working weeks over Christmas?" Hermione, biting her lip and unable to discern the cause of the sudden bout of concern for her that Kreacher had, nodded. But Harry however had an inkling that the wily elf was up to no good in true Marauder style.

"Well then," Kreacher began, face free of guile, "it's time to rectify this issue." And with a click of his fingers, Ron's dessert bowl vanished, only to rematerialize on the other side of Hermione. "Thank-you very much Kreacher," Hermione smiled, as Kreacher turned to Harry, and barely discernibly, winked. "And perhaps one more topping, Master Harry, for luck?" he finished. Chuckling gently, Harry gave him the thumbs up as more Baked Alaska appeared on top of his existing slice.

"That will be all, Kreacher," he chortled. "And if I may suggest so, Ron, don't insult the elf that's just about to give you dessert." Nodding vigorously, and barely restraining a laugh himself, Kreacher Disapparated.

Scowling, Ron cleared his throat and bellowed into thin air. "All right, I take it back! You're not like Yoda at all!" But no dessert appeared. Kreacher, it seemed, was enjoying handing out Ron his punishment.

"You were very cruel with that jibe Ron," Harry said in a mostly straight face as he recomposed himself. Ron, it seemed, was finding his own way of coping with the loss of dessert, grabbing and ripping open a box of Jelly Slugs with vigor. Ron glared back at him as he gestured at the screen. "But I have a point," he growled. "Right now, they're both acting like the obnoxious little gits they are."

"Oh get over it," Harry breathed. "At least you didn't have to cope with Jar-Jar Binks for two hours." He shook his head. "How deluded I was, thinking Dobby was annoying as could be…"

"You did have you arm broken by his cursed Bludger," Hermione reminded him. "You had reason to be annoyed."

"And not with the nitwit who then removed all the bones in his arm?" Ron asked, his eyebrow raised. Hermione, instead of blushing, looked at him coldly. "If you refrain from bringing up Lockhart, I'll have no reason to bring up that ridiculous necklace," she retorted. "You, as Treasurer of SPEW, should learn that with bigoted insults comes more pain for yourself."

"Fine," Ron said as he stretched his arms and yawned. "But because of the lack of dessert, I'm feeling a little…off."

"Sick?" Harry asked, briefly allowing a note of concern to enter into his voce.

"Nah, just cold mate. It's hardly fair when all I've got is this T-shirt and my dressing gown, while you-" he poked a finger at Hermione- "have three layers on."

"Is this just an excuse for me to sit in your lap and warm you up?"

"You know you love it." This was followed by a minor spat of mutual giggling as the two rearranged their sitting positions.

Harry silently gagged. _Great._ Cuddle o'clock was about to strike, and drastic action was needed to delay it.

"Hey Ron," he called out, as Yoda began putting Luke through the first steps of Jedi Master training, "With attitudes like that towards _my_ elf, I can see why Hermione appointed you Treasurer of SPEW."

The attempt at muddying the waters, if one could even call it an attempt, fell flat on its face as Ron gave a rude hand-gesture, Hermione shot back with a call of "Hypocrite," as the pair of them snuggled together, and Harry was forced into accepting defeat.

He'd always thought the pair of them still acted like the fire-breathing young teenagers they once were. But now, with Hermione Granger not giving a damn about SPEW, he thought maybe things had changed after all.

By now, with the two lovebirds to his right almost on the verge of dozing off, and with Harry more than once raising the volume to cover sounds he didn't wish to hear, Chewbacca, Leia and Han had arrived at Cloud City, where they were being greeted by Lando for dinner (with the ruler seemingly devoting particular attention to the princess much to Han's amusement.)

"Sleazy git," Ron mumbled. "He's got that McLaggen air about him."

"Oh come on, he's got no show Ron…"

"Not that. He gives off the vibes of a backstabbing scumbag."

"But he's Han's friend!" Harry protested.

"That's rich, coming from the bloke who trusted the word of a diary over Hagrid."

"Boys, boys," Hermione interjected, extending a hand to tap Harry on the shoulder sternly. "To end the quarrel, how about you two just have another wager?"

"Deal," both boys chanted in unison. Lando was meanwhile babbling on about his city's independent stance politically.

" _..But things have developed here that will ensure security."_

Ron gave Harry a sideways glance as Chewbacca gave a glance around, full of suspicion.

' _I've just made a deal that will keep the Empire out of here forever."_

"Like backstabbing your friends, you little rat?" Ron almost hissed under his breath as Lando flicked the switch to open the door, giving Han a meaningful look.

Sure enough, what with Darth Vader waiting inside for them, Harry was soon stripped of his Galleon, as Vader invited them inside for lunch at gunpoint.

 _"We would be honoured….if you would join us."_

"Hermione, how is he even supposed to eat with that ridiculous mask on?

"Oh, forget it Harry."

A few minutes later, the tension in the living room had amplified somewhat as a frightened-looking Han was strapped to a chair, while Darth Vader menacingly approached him.

"That's no way to treat your daughter's boyfriend," Harry muttered to Hermione as loud cries began to ring out from the torture room. Hermione winced at the loudest yell and turned to Harry. "You're right, but his idea of overprotective parenting is about to go further than that."

"Hmmm," Ron muttered, eyeing the screen as Vader swept out of the room, the unfortunate Han's cries still ringing n the background. "I'd hate to see what Dr. Granger would do to me if he felt I wasn't up to standard. Strap me to a gurney and probe my mouth with an elektrik shrill, you think?"

"Electric _drill_ , Ron, and no, he wouldn't. It's normal to probe people's mouths like that."

"Mental."

Sure enough, Vader was about to take things to a new level. Harry personally found it hard to watch Han being lowered into the Carbonite freezing chamber. When the resulting frozen slab was lifted out and pushed over, both Harry and Ron jumped.

"Blimey," Ron whimpered, struggling for words. "That looks like…like…"

"Petrification?" Harry finished with a meaningful glance sideways at Ron. For him too, this scene was bringing back unpleasant memories of finding chilled, frozen bodies on deserted, shadowy corridors, not to mention one of the individuals in that very room also sharing the same fate.

The downbeat vibe caused by the freezing of one of the main characters had lifted somewhat by the time of the ferocious lightsaber duel that followed it closely.

"NOOOO!" Ron yelled out, his voice rivalling the wounded Luke's. "How could I have seen that coming?" At that Hermione gave a muffled, self-satisfied chuckle. "Perhaps if you'd listened to my Grawp-sized hints?" she suggested sardonically.

The opening of _Return of the Jedi_ attracted relatively few interjections, although the appearance onscreen of Jabba the Hutt did ("Thank heavens Hagrid never tried to house-train him," Hermione had said), while the other interruption had painful consequences for the person involved.

As the grandfather clock chimed eleven-thirty, Ron choked on his latest batch of popcorn. Promptly, Hermione pinched him near the armpit. As Ron's indignant response echoed around the room, Harry suspected that the reasoning for Ron's choking on popcorn was the sudden appearance of the female lead character in a rather tight-fitting bikini.

"You were totally asking for that," Hermione finished her scolding of Ron.

"If you think that's bad, little brother, you ought to see what Angelina on a bad day does to me," came an easygoing, familiar voice issuing from the corridor outside. With a squeak, Hermione positively catapulted off Ron's lap, Harry promptly hit stop on the DVD player, while Ron, flustered, turned to meet the gaze of his mischievously-grinning brother, who gesturing to Harry to move aside, grabbed a cushion from the couch.

"George, what the devil are you doing, bringing…"

"That's Saint George the Lugless to you," shot back his older brother, launching his cushion with the speed and accuracy of a Tomahawk missile. "You see, it's time, little bro, for your little assistance on a show I'm putting on."

"A show?" Hermione enquired, stepping over a rather grumpy Ron who was nursing the part of his anatomy where the cushion had hit home. "But we're going out in about twenty minutes; Harry, Ron and I were planning to see the fireworks along the Thames down at Westminster…"

"Family-time Hermione," Angelina tutted, looking somewhat amused at the former movie marathon she and her boyfriend had just gatecrashed. "Your parents are there, the whole Weasley family is there, and we're about to give Ottery St. Catchpole its greatest-ever fireworks display."

There was no turning down of that offer, and as Ron grumbled about not seeing the end of _Star Wars_ while they all put on their coats and crossed the street, Harry smiled. Yes, the absence of Fred at the proceedings would be obvious to anyone with eyes, but here they all were, facing a new millennium with the same enthusiastic vigor as their eight million Muggle neighbours.

The five, nervously glancing around the streets to ensure no-one was spotted, linked their arms and all darted behind the trunk of the broadest oak.

Then, with a single, muffled _whump_ like a silenced gunshot, they vanished into thin air.


End file.
